


Memories in the Wind

by ADCurtis



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aang (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Air Nomad Genocide (Avatar), Air Nomads (Avatar), F/M, Post-Avatar: The Last Airbender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27159106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADCurtis/pseuds/ADCurtis
Summary: A sound carried on the winds lead Aang and Katara to hope for something seeming long lost.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 62





	Memories in the Wind

**Chapter 1: Chant**

…………….

“Be careful, Bumi!”

Katara pulled protectively at her toddling son as he leaned disconcertingly over the edge of Appa’s saddle to rub his chubby little hands in fistfuls of Appa’s fur.

Aang looked back over his shoulder from where he held the reins on Appa’s head and smiled.

“Oh let him have some fun, Katara! You know I’ve got him if he falls overboard.”

Katara’s grip on her son tightened as she sent an exasperated looked toward her carefree husband. “Aang, I just don’t think it’s safe for Bumi to think that every time he falls off of Appa he gets a ‘fun glider ride with Daddy’ back up here to safety.”

“But I’ve got him, Katara. I don’t want him to be afraid of heights.”

Katara huffed. “But for those of us who don’t command Air, Sweetie, a dose of that kind of fear is not unhealthy.”

“You don’t know yet that Bumi doesn’t bend air,” Aang said casually. “He’s too young to tell.”

Aang smiled with a playful twinkle in his eye. “Or maybe he’ll be splashing his mom with waterbending before we know it! Wouldn’t that be great?”

Katara couldn’t help the smile that found its way to her mouth. She _did_ like the idea of teaching waterbending to her son one day. At a year and a half Bumi hadn’t shown any signs of either waterbending or airbending, but he was young yet. 

“Maybe he won’t bend at all,” Katara proposed thoughtfully.

Aang smirked cheekily, “As long as he doesn’t bend Fire or Earth, I think we are good.” He looked at her with mock-seriousness as he teased, “Because then you’d have some ‘splaining to do.”

Katara rolled her eyes at Aang dramatically, but couldn’t help but smile at him, shaking her head at the preposterousness of the idea. With Bumi’s open, carefree spirit and his ‘run before he walks’ and ‘leap before he looks’ tendencies, Katara wondered how anyone could ever doubt that Aang was his father. Personality wise, Bumi was undeniably Aang’s son.

Katara looked at her son as she held his torso with two hands, his fat little fingers still buried in Appa’s fur. Bumi laughed and babbled “Ap-pa, Ap-pa, Ap-pa” to himself as his dark hair blew wildly in the wind.

It had been a sore spot for Aang that Bumi had spoken the word “Appa” before “Daddy” -- a fact that Aang insisted his sky bison lorded over him constantly. “You don’t know what its like, Katara! I’ll catch a smug look in Appa’s eye and just know he’s laughing at me. How could my own son betray me this way?!” It was all in jest of course, but Katara suspected that any real feelings of hurt didn’t fully dissipate until Bumi started babbling “Da-da” at which point Aang seemed to forget the snub completely as he instead, glowed with pride. “Katara did you hear that?! He’s _so_ smart!” Then continuing with a loving look at his wife, “A genius, just like his mom!”

The little family currently flew over a forested area in the northwestern Earth Kingdom. This part of the Earth Kingdom was pretty far north, the vegetation consisting of mostly evergreens and other tenacious plants that didn’t mind the rocky ground and the cold winters. But it was summer now, and the air was clear and cool, the breeze bringing the delightful scent of pine as Katara inhaled deeply.

Suddenly, Appa let out a groan and veered sharply down and to the right. Katara reflexively pulled Bumi protectively into her lap as she grabbed the saddle with one arm to steady herself, her innards giving that strange lurching feeling that felt like her stomach had jumped into her throat.

“Whoa boy!” Katara heard Aang say as he pulled the reins, trying to get his animal guide back on course. “What’s up, Buddy?” Appa groaned something at Aang as he leveled out again.

But a moment later he lurched again, this time turning them all the way around and descending toward the forest below.

Katara looked over the lip of the saddle to see Aang laying flat on his stomach on Appa’s head as he spoke to his bison. “Do you hear something, Buddy?”

Then sitting up, Aang called back to Katara. “Looks like Appa wants to land here for some reason, Sweetie. I guess we’re going down.”

As the giant bison landed six-footed onto the rocky ground amid the sparse but towering trees, Aang hopped back up into the saddle with his wife and son. Then taking hold of Katara around the waist as she held Bumi, Aang airbend-jumped all three of them down to the ground.

“Why did we stop, Aang?” Katara asked.

“I’m not sure. I have no idea why Appa wanted to stop here.” But Aang’s perplexed look quickly turned to an open smile that he turned to his wife. “Well, shall we have a look around then?” Katara could see that Aang’s disposition for adventure and his naturally flexible sense of ‘destination’ were taking over.

“I suppose so,” Katara said as she set Bumi down to let him walk around a bit, smiling affectionately at the way her son held his hands out for balance. “It is a lovely forest.”

They had not taken more than ten steps into the trees when Aang stopped Katara in her tracks. “Wait. Do you hear that?”

The sound was faint, but as Katara strained her ears she thought she could hear the sound of… what was that? The sound was long and solemn, resonating out a continuous melancholy whine. Katara didn’t know what would make a sound like that; certainly not an animal. Maybe some sort of instrument perhaps?

Aang seemed to have frozen, a wide-eyed look on his face.

Appa bellowed again and walked forward, nuzzling his head into Aang, snapping Aang out of his trance. Aang put his hand on Appa’s big head and affirmed with semi-stunned excitement, “Yeah, I hear it too, Appa!”

“Let’s go find it, Buddy!” Aang said enthusiastically to Appa as he scooped Bumi giggling up into his hands and grabbed Katara’s hand and pulled her back onto Appa’s back. Appa didn’t wait to hear “yip, yip” before he took off into the sky.

Katara still did not know what the sound was, but it clearly meant something to Aang and Appa. She wanted to ask her husband about it, but she didn’t want to interrupt the single-minded concentration Aang was giving to following the sound at this moment.

Appa flew low, the toes of his six legs often skimming the tops of the trees. Aang half straddled, half stood on Appa’s head, like a jockey standing up in the stirrups, all the while moving his arms in wide sweeping motions, as though he was pulling the air towards his chest. Katara knew that Aang was pulling at the surrounding air, willing the sound to come to him, amplifying it so they could follow it to its source.

It didn’t take long to follow the sound to a tiny settlement nestled among the trees. There were so few houses, and each spaced so far apart, that it couldn’t really even be called a town. Appa had to circle around the roof of the source of the sound a couple of times before needing to land a short distance away from it in the only clearing big enough for his large body.

The sound rang out clearly from inside a small log dwelling.

But even after Appa landed with a huff, Aang remained still, staring unmoving toward the dwelling just visible through the pines. He didn’t move from Appa’s head. Katara began to feel a little apprehensive as she observed the blue tattoo on Aang’s tense back.

“Sweetie?” Katara asked after another long frozen minute listening to the melancholy brass song through the trees. She placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Katara was unprepared for the intensity of emotion on Aang’s face when he turned toward her. His grey eyes were wide, almost haunted, some complicated set of emotions brewing behind them. Anticipation? Hope? Dread, perhaps?

Aang turned his gaze back towards the dwelling before climbing down slowly from Appa’s head. Something about his climb down seemed so strange. For one thing, Katara wasn’t sure if she had ever actually seen Aang _climb_ down before, not like this anyway; he usually just jumped or floated down. But this movement seemed to be in slow motion, and as though his body was suddenly heavy, each step taking effort. Like he dreaded what lay before him.

Aang began to move toward the trees leading to the log house.

“Sweetie?” she tried again.

Aang turned back to her, the solemn sound ringing through the air around them. “It’s a singing bowl, Katara. An Air Nomad instrument. I haven’t heard one in…” his sentence drifted off absently as he turned back towards the sound.

But then he just stood there, not moving forward. Appa grunted and took a couple steps toward him -- exhausting the extent of space this clearing left for his big body to move -- and nudged Aang with his head as though pushing him toward the sound. Aang shook his head slightly, as if recovering from a trance, and reached out a hand to stroke his oldest friend’s furry cheek. Aang forced a fleeting smile and a “Thanks, Buddy”, before stepping into the forest toward the cabin.

Katara just watched the strait back of the last known air nomad walk away toward the small dwelling that vibrated with a sound both ancient and presumed extinct. For a moment Katara just sat there before she came to herself, and scooped Bumi (who had been uncharacteristically still, as though spellbound by the sound singing through the mountain air) onto her hip and scrambled down Appa’s side to hurry after Aang.

Katara, with Bumi in arms, wound her way through the fragrant evergreens, the light crunch of dried pine needles snapping under her soft boots as she followed after her husband. By the time she arrived at the small dwelling, Aang was nowhere to be seen.

“Aang?” she called as she ducked around the building to the open front door.

Katara stopped, her hand on the rough wood of the open doorframe. Aang stood a few steps inside the small home, his body unnaturally still. She couldn’t see his face, just the rigidity of his stance. The wailing sound vibrated full and long all around the small room.

Beyond Aang, sitting serenely on a mat on the floor was a very old, bald man. A young child at his side ran a wooden mallet around the edge of a brass bowl perched on a folded cloth on the ground in front of him. The ringing was clearly coming from the bowl. Eyes closed, the old man spoke softly – no _chanted_ , almost like he was singing – words that Katara could not understand.

Katara boosted Bumi a little higher on her hip and took a few tentative steps forward inside the hut until she stood at Aang side. She touched his shoulder tentatively with the tips of her fingers. “Aang?”

Aang didn’t turn to look at her, but he exhaled as though it was long overdue, his eyes still staring at the old man.

The old man finished his mantra and then opened his eyes. His withered old hand reached over and gently stopped the circling hand of the child at his side, stopping the singing bowl’s effervescent wail. The sound seemed to echo in the small structure for a moment even after the vibrations had dissipated. The child looked up at them with bright grey eyes, expectant.

The old man brought his hand together with a fist and bowed his head slightly toward Aang. “Bhu-la”

Katara could see Aang’s adam’s apple bob once before he too brought his hands together and bowed respectfully, replying, “Jolak”.

The man motioned with his hand to the empty space on the floor across from him and Aang sat down in lotus, facing him. They both said nothing at first, but Katara could see that Aang’s throat bobbed again as if holding back great emotion.

“Bhu-la”, the old man addressed Aang again (Katara seemed to remember from her stilted efforts to learn Aang’s Air Nomad language that this meant “younger brother”), “I am honored to have you in my home. At first I thought my old eyes had deceived me. I never thought that I would again behold another Kushow La in my lifetime.”

Aang’s face fought valiantly against some strong emotion. “Jolak…” Aang addressed this elder brother and then paused, needing a moment to find his voice before he could continue. “Are you… are you a Kushow La? Are you also an Air Nomad monk?”

Katara’s eyes darted back to the old man in hopeful surprise, even though she saw no arrow tattoos on the old man’s forehead or hands.

The old man sighed, “Alas, I am not.”

Aang’s head bowed, his eyes clenched tightly as he fought to keep his obvious disappointment within. A moment later, Aang’s face became a stone wall. The same stone Katara saw whenever he was keeping some strong emotion to himself.

“I see,” Aang replied.

“I am not. But, young Bhu-la, my _father_ was,” the old man said.

Aang’s eyes opened eagerly, his whole body leaning forward. “Your father? Was an Air Nomad monk??”

“Yes,” the old man chuckled at the eagerness of the tattooed young man before him. “My father was a Kushow La. Like you.”

“My father was not even yet twenty years old at the time of Sozin’s massacre.” The man took a long inhaled breath before continuing. “He told me that his bison had fallen ill, and he was tending to him, which is why he was late for the festival that would have taken him home to the Northern Air Temple at the time of Firelord Sozin’s first attacks. Having not been at the temple, he avoided the first wave of fire.” The old man looked somberly down to his lap. “But he and his kind were hunted afterward. His beloved bison was cut down before word of the slaughter had even made it to my father’s ears. My father only narrowly escaped that attack with his own life.”

The man looked knowingly at Aang, a well of sympathy behind his old eyes as he continued, “My father did not talk much of those many years of fleeing from the Fire Nation. But I know he saw great atrocities and his personal losses were great.”

Aang listened intently, nodding minutely in understanding, his face stone again (although Katara could see the pain behind his eyes).

“My Earth Kingdom grandfather’s family provided my father a temporary refuge for a time. While my father was staying with my grandfather, he and my mother fell in love. But when their union was opposed by my grandfather, the two fled together to these very forests. They built this home, far from civilization, with the hope that they could hide from those who sought to destroy them. I was born within these very walls.” The old man looked up at the small wooden structure, as though a lifetime’s worth of memories were written upon it.

“My mother and father and I lived here happily for many years. Until whispers of Airbender survivors began to circulate, even making it out here to our remote location. My father ignored them for a long time. Until one day he told my mother he had to go and see, to find one of these ‘havens’ in the mountains for himself. I was twelve at the time.”

The old man looked Aang strait in the face. “I never saw my father again. I never found out what happened to him.”

Aang winced, as if he understood more than he wanted to. Katara was not sure what “havens in the mountains” the man spoke of, but she did not have much trouble imagining the end fate of this man’s father.

Aang spoke, “I am so sorry for your loss, Jolak.”

“Thank you for your sympathy, Bhu-la. I accept your shared mourning.”

Aang turned his eyes toward the child and with a kind smile said, “Thank you for your music, Bhu-la. You play just like I remember it from when I was your age!”

The little boy’s face burst into a wide, charming smile. The old man smiled and patting the child’s leg with unobscured pride as he introduced, “This is my great-grandson, Aanpa. He is named after my father, the Kushow La.”

Aang’s eyes moistened, but he smiled at the boy again. “It’s a good name, Aanpa. I had a friend my age who shared your name too.” Aang bit his lip and looked down at his hands in his lap. “It’s a good name,” he repeated again.

At this point Bumi bucked in Katara’s arms, reaching for the floor. He wanted to get down. Katara knelt down on the ground as well, a step to the side of Aang as she pulled Bumi to sit on her lap. Aang looked towards her and introduced, “Jolak” then nodding to the little boy “and Buh-la, this is my wife, Katara, and our son, Bumi.”

The man palmed his fist and dipped his head towards Katara and Bumi. The man’s great-grandson just smiled bigger. Katara smiled back, dipping her head in respect as well.

Seeming to remember, Aang added, “Oh, and I’m Aang.”

The old man’s eyes twinkled, traveling once up to the blue tattoos on Aang’s arms and forehead. “I’m aware of who you are, Bhu-La Aang. Even way out here, we are aware.”

Aang opened his palms upward, motioning toward the singing bowl, “May I… join you? To chant the Time Mantra again?” Katara saw him swallow past his emotion. “It’s been a long time since…” but Aang’s voice seemed to fail him then.

The old man looked at him kindly; Katara seemed to see an _Understanding_ in his old grey eyes. “Of course.”

The man nodded to his great-grandson and the little boy hit the brass bowl with his mallet, then rubbing the wooden handle around the bowl’s edge, the metal began to sing. Bumi bucked again, trying to get out of his mother’s arms to grab at the bowl, but Katara pulled him back to sit on her lap.

Aang and the old airbender’s son both closed their eyes and breathed deeply. Even as their eyes remained closed they both lifted their right hands up, palm facing forward, their left hands resting palm up on their folded knees. For a time they just sat this way, eyes closed, breathing deeply as the singing bowl rang out. Then without any signal that Katara could see, they both began to speak in unison.

Katara had heard Aang chant to himself frequently. And Aang had told her often of the daily chants and joint meditations of the monks. So she was familiar with the sing-song of the mantra. But she had never heard an Air Nomad chant in tandem before, and the sound of it, the way the words resonated through the little log house was incredible. It was like their voices were one layered voice, but somehow even more potent. The sound of it brought a catch in her throat. Even Bumi sat listening, watching his father’s face intently.

As the chant filled the small wooden dwelling, the chorus seeming to sink within her, Katara couldn’t help but imagine how this sound would have echoed gloriously in the great meditation halls of the Air Temples. With a hundred voices reciting the words together.

For the thousandth time Katara felt a great swell of compassion for all that Aang had lost. There was no accompanying anger this time, as there had often been in the past, just a great sense of loss, like a gaping hole opening in her abdomen.

Compassion stirred within her as she saw tears begin to stream down Aang’s face from under his closed dark lashes. Bumi’s little hand reached up to her face, and she realized that she was crying too. She looked down into her son’s wide perplexed eyes, and took his chubby little hand in hers and kissed it, reassuring him that everything was all right.

Katara could not understand the words of the chant, although she recognized the intonations as Aang’s native tongue, the long-lost Air Nomad dialect. She bit back regret that she had not learned more of his language, so that she could know the meaning of the chant. Silently she vowed to try harder to learn.

But knowing the meaning of the words or not, there was no doubting the sacredness of this moment:

Aang, eyes closed, tears streaming down his face, chanted in his own language a mantra of his youth with another living being for the first time in over a century.

…………..

Katara looked up from her place at the kitchen counter when she heard a knock on the front door. “Just a moment,” she called out as she quickly set the sliced lotus root she was preparing for dinner into a bowl of water to soak. Wiping her hands on her apron (that bulged comically over her rounded tummy) Katara walked toward the door of their home on Air Temple Island.

With an angry yell coming from Kya’s room, Bumi and one of his friends came barreling from the back of the house, bumping into Katara on their way to the door. “Sorry Mom!” he quipped with a charming crooked smile as the two of them jostled out the front door, nearly knocking the man standing outside it over in their haste.

Katara sighed in exasperation as she saw the door swing shut after them, muffling her son’s “oh, sorry!” to the man he nearly knocked over on the doorstep. She shook her head at her son, now verging on teenagehood, but still just as unwary and haphazard as when he was a toddler.

Opening the door again, Katara saw a young man with a light pack on his back and a parcel wrapped in a cloth in his hands, watching Bumi and his friend running pell-mell down the path towards the docks. As he turned his attention back towards her, she smiled. “Hello. Can I help you?”

The young man smiled nervously. “Um, hi. Are you Master Katara? I’m here to… to see your husband.” 

Katara was not surprised by the man’s request – people frequently sought an audience with the Avatar – although she was surprised that he had not been stopped by one of the Acolytes before coming strait to her door. No worry, she would be happy to see what he wanted.

“Aang is in the sanctuary at the moment. Is there something I can help you with?”

The young man tapped the parcel in his hands idly and looked around. “Um, sure. I guess. You see, I’ve come to, um, to maybe join your, um, your Air Acolytes.” His eyes flicked unsurely to Katara for a moment.

Katara’s heart warmed as she smiled at the boy. She never ceased to be amazed at the generosity of those willing to give their lives to keep the Air Nomad’s culture and teachings alive. “Of course. Welcome to Air Temple Island… what did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t. But it’s Aanpa. My Great-great-grandfather was an Air Nomad. I don’t know if you remember, but I met you once, when I was very young. You and the Avatar came to my Great-grandfather’s house.”

Katara’s eyebrows lifted in pleasant surprise. “Oh yes! I remember that day well. Are you the little boy who played the singing bowl?!”

Aanpa smiled widely, and held up the parcel, unwrapping a corner to show her what was inside. “I have it with me now! I wanted to… to um, maybe give it to Avatar Aang. Since it belonged to his people…”

Katara ran her fingers delicately over the edge of the bowl, remembering that day. She remembered the sound of it, how it had called to Appa. How the sound had spiked in her husband a hope that pierced a hundred year of empty looking.

She knew how the hope had hurt Aang, how believing that ‘maybe’, only to be disappointed again, had left his heart raw and exposed. He had tried for days afterwards to build his walls ever higher in an attempt to hide his grief, even from her. But she could see through it. And she understood. And her unwavering embrace had said more than any words could have when he finally leaned into her for strength.

When he was ready, Aang admitted his disappointment. But also his joy to have found a descendant of his people. And how much it had meant to him to Chant with the Kushow La’s son. Despite the pain, Aang felt it was a blessing.

Katara was used to her husband’s ability to see Light. And how he accepted the shadows that, for him, so often accompanied it. Even Aang’s fondest memories carried shadows. But something that Katara loved most about Aang was that even though nothing would ever restore what he had lost, no one was more grateful than he was for every shard of Light to be found.

Katara gently folded the fabric back around the bowl and pushed it back towards Aanpa. “No. This belongs to _your_ people. It is a heritage you and Aang _share_. Aang will be touched that you would consider giving it to him, but I know he would want you to keep it.”

Then, setting aside her apron and stepping out onto the porch, Katara beckoned to Aanpa to follow her. “Come with me. Let’s go and find Aang.”

The pair could hear the chant carried on the pleasant spring breezes long before they reached the end of the upward winding path that led to the sanctuary. As they reached the entrance, the many-paneled doors swung wide open allowed for the sound to travel freely outward. Many voices spoke as one, the words singing out with the great brass bowl -- this one the size of a barrel -- that was rung carefully by an old Acolyte in saffron robes.

Aanpa stared at the group of Acolytes sitting on the temple’s mosaicked floor, their eyes closed tranquilly as the words of worship and unity spoke from their lips. Katara’s eyes found one blue arrowed brow amidst them, his face peaceful as he joined the chant.

The Acolytes knew many chants. But how fitting that today they would be speaking this one. The same chant that Aang had shared with Aanpa’s great-grandfather all those years ago.

While the pair watched and listened, Katara, supporting her heavily pregnant belly with one hand, leaned in towards the young man and asked, “Do you recognize it?”

Katara smiled compassionately as Aanpa turned to her with tears in his eyes. “This is the… it’s the same one my great-grandfather… used to…” Aanpa looked back into the sanctuary. “But I never understood it. I don’t know what it means.”

Katara looked back towards the worshippers, sunshine falling freely upon their brows as their many voices in unison resonated out.

“It’s called _the Time Mantra_. Let me translate it for you.”

Katara paused as she listened to the words as they rang out vibrantly. “ _Time is wind. No one can hold it. No one can stop its course_ ,” she translated. “ _Time, like the wind, blows past, ever flowing, ever moving, stopping for not a soul_.”

She paused listening for the next line, “ _See how it shapes the mountains. See how it moves the seas_.”

Katara could see the young man swallow thickly as she continued. “ _How will I let it move me, what will I let Time bring?_ ”

The last of the chant came to a pulsating stop as Katara’s voice spoke the last line in silence. “ _Now is the only chance, to rein what Time shapes in me_.”

The two stood together, hearing the echo of the chant in the silence. Katara felt the baby kick within her. She watched to catch Aang’s eyes when they opened, a giant smile bursting on his face when he saw her standing there. He looked happy, a fullness of peace in his demeanor.

Katara turned to Aanpa and took his elbow kindly, moving him forward into the sanctuary. “Come, Bhu-la Aanpa. Let’s go in and say hi, shall we?”

…………

The Time Mantra

Time is wind. No one can hold it. No one can stop its course.

Time, like the wind, blows past, ever flowing, ever moving, stopping for not a soul.

See how it shapes the mountains. See how it moves the seas.

How will I let it move me? What will I let Time bring?

Now is the only chance, to rein what Time shapes in me.

………..

**Author's Note:**

> Although this story is just a one-shot, I am planning to make this a series of one-shots exploring Aang’s experiences at different times of his life being the Last Airbender. So if you are interested to read more when I get them written, feel free to put this story on alert. As always, thank you for reading and if you leave a comment, you will make my day ;) Take care!


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